


Mistakes Were Made

by tenlittlecock_bites



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate universe gta5, FAHC, GTA5 - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenlittlecock_bites/pseuds/tenlittlecock_bites
Summary: When breaking into a guy's apartment, don't knock over his plant. Especially when that guy happens to be the deadliest criminal in Los Santos.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Realization of Self](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717373) by [Satan (CherryBones)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBones/pseuds/Satan). 



> Hey I'm not dead and I actually wrote something.
> 
> This is probably the only nonshippy thing I've every written in my entire life lmao
> 
> This is loosely based off satansprettyprose (on Tumblr)'s GTA au (which is lovely go read it) and the idea of someone breaking into Ryan's apartment and knocking over his precious plant son.

In most circumstances, Ray was above petty robbery, especially from run down apartments with shitty security and, more often than not, unlocked windows. However, it had been weeks since he'd had a meal that wasn't off the dollar menu, and he's fully convinced he'd cut off his right hand for a real meal at this point.

 

With that thought in mind as he perched on the fire escape of some decrepit old building, pleasantly surprised that the rusted metal even supported his weight, he eased open the window to some poor asshole’s bedroom window, sliding inside with ease except for his hip knocking against a small potted plant, sending it toppling to the floor with the sound of shattering porcelain.

 

Under the impression that no one was home, he started to poke around the room. The place was sparsely decorated, with a bed with simple linens pushed against one wall, and a small desk in the corner of which the chair in front of it had a leather jacket draped over the back. As Ray crept towards the desk, his eyes landed first on a couple small pots of face paint, along with a couple knives and some ammo, before landing on a black leather skull mask.

 

A chill of fear and regret shivered down his spine, his stomach dropping somewhere near his feet, before there was the sound of footsteps behind him. When he turned around, the warm light from the hallway spilling through the doorway was blocked by a broad, tall silhouette.

 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing here?” A voice growled and holy shit, he broke into the Vagabond’s apartment.

 

“I… ok listen man, I don't want any trouble.” Ray said, raising his hands in surrender, “Please don't… like… gut me on your carpet or anything.”

 

“You knocked over Elvis.” The Vagabond pointed out, voice still a menacing growl that, even with the realization that he was talking about a fucking _plant_ terrified Ray to his very core.

 

And his last meal had been a damn McDouble.

 

“I'm sorry?” Ray said, then stepped back hastily as the other man took one forward, “I really am. I'll even buy you a new pot and some dirt for… Elvis. Ok? I'll probably have to kill a mugger or something to get the money but--”

 

“Turn around.” The same deep growl interrupted and Ray blinked before quickly obeying, footsteps and shuffling heard from behind him. He closed his eyes tight, hoping maybe he'd be merciful and just shoot Ray in the back of the head or something instead of torturing him.

 

“Ok, lets go.” The Vagabond spoke again, voice now muffled by what Ray was assuming was the mask. Ray slowly turned back around, the large figure even more intimidating in black leather and rubber.

 

“Go?”

 

“You said you'd buy me a new pot. Let's go.”

 

Without waiting for a reply, he turned, grabbing a set of keys off the desk.

 

Well, Ray wasn't going to argue with that.

 

\---

 

Standing in line at Home Depot was weird enough in itself. Standing in line at Home Depot with _the Vagabond_. Well, Ray had seen and done a _lot_ of weird shit in his life, and this topped the list.

 

He tried not to stare, he really did. It was really hard not to, though. The most menacing, vicious criminal in all of Los Santos standing beside him with a bag of potting soil over one shoulder. The only thing that made this less weird was that when he had been given the new pot to hold (a pale blue round thing) it had been paired with a whisper that if this pot was broken, so would be every bone in his body.

 

As the cashier scanned their (his) purchase, Ray rummaged through his pockets and wallet, pulling out crumpled bills and loose change. He really needed to find a job soon.

 

“That'll be $14.37.” The cashier said, directing the comment at Ray, her eyes sometimes twitching up to the Vagabond before quickly looking away again.

 

“Seriously?” Ray asked, sighing as he came up about five dollars short. Yep, he was dead.

 

Before anything else could be said, the Vagabond threw down a hundred dollar bill before, scooping Rays change and sad bills off the counter, tucking them away before throwing the bag back over his shoulder.

 

“Keep the change.” He told the cashier before picking up the pot gingerly, nodding at Ray to follow as he made his way to the automatic doors to exit the store.

 

Things could not get any weirder.

 

\---

 

“Is that all your money?”

 

Ray startled out of the trace he had been in as they sped back to the Vagabond’s apartment. “Um… basically, yeah. I haven't taken a job in a while. A lot of them are hits on… people I used to be close to.” He winced as the Vagabond’s fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel, “So I've sorta been depending on loose change lately, but I've been eating dollar menu for like six weeks now which is why I was breaking into your place and I'm going to shut up now.”

 

As they pulled into the parking lot with its cracked asphalt and faint scent of piss, a wad of cash was shoved into his hand before he could get out of that car.

 

“Keep it. But if you ever break into my place again, or tell _anyone_ where I live, I will skin you alive and break every bone in your body. Understood?”

 

Ray nodded quickly, barely meeting the icy blue gaze piercing through him right then. “Affirmative. Sorry about Elvis.”

 

“He’ll live. Now get out.”

 

Ray had never moved faster in his life, retrieving his sniper from the backseat before jumping out of the vehicle, shoving the cash into his hoodie pocket and pulling up the hood before making his way down the street.

 

Things got weirder.


End file.
